Author: Jim Spiegel

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A Defense of Conditional Immortalism

By Jim Spiegel

Conditional immortalism is the view that human beings are not naturally immortal but are only granted immortality (eternal life) by God as part of our salvation.  In other words, immortality is conditional upon divine grace.  Thus, those who are saved in Christ live forever with him, while those who are damned suffer in hell for some finite period and are eventually annihilated.

Conditional immortalism should not be confused with other versions of annihilationism which say that the damned are immediately destroyed upon death and do not suffer in hell.  And conditional immortalism contrasts with the traditional view (since Augustine) that the damned suffer eternal conscious torment.

Six Arguments for Conditional Immortalism

1. The Language of Destruction — Numerous biblical passages refer to the wicked and the damned being destroyed or perishing (Ps. 37:38, Ps. 68:2, Ps. 145:20, John 3:16, Phil. 3:19, etc.).  But if the damned live forever, then they are never destroyed.  Also, the biblical imagery of fire  (Isa. 34:10-11, Ezek. 20:47-48; Amos 5:6, Mt. 3:12, Mt. 13:49-50, Rev. 20, etc.) suggests obliteration of the wicked, since fire consumes what it burns.

2. The Opposing Concepts of Damnation and Eternal Life — In Scripture the eternal life promised to Christians is opposed to the damnation of the wicked.  But if the damned live eternally in hell, then their fate also is eternal life.  After all, they never die.  Theirs is a painful eternal life, but it is still eternal life.  The conditional immortalist view makes much better sense of the biblical contrast between damnation and eternal life.

3. Reconciliation of All Things to God — The Bible says that God will reconcile all things to himself (Col. 1:20).  If the damned live forever in hell, then they are not reconciled to God.

4. Matthew 10:28 — In this passage Jesus says that God can “destroy both body and soul in hell.”  This suggests that hell is indeed a place where souls are destroyed.

5. The “Second Death” — Conditional immortalism makes the best sense of the concept of the “second death” referred to in Rev. 20:14-15 and Rev. 21:8.  If the damned soul lives forever in hell, then there is no second death, thus contradicting Scripture.

6. The Argument from Justice — If all of the damned suffer in hell eternally, then this constitutes an infinite penalty for finite sins, which is profoundly unjust.  Some traditionalists insist that sins against an infinite and holy God require a temporally infinite penalty.  But this is a non-sequitur.  It does not follow from the fact that God is infinite and morally perfect that punishment of those who sin against him must be infinite in duration.

So where did the doctrine of eternal conscious torment come from, if not Scripture?  It appears that the culprit is the Platonic concept of natural immortality.  Socrates and Plato affirmed the notion that the human soul is naturally immortal.  This idea found its way into Christian theology in the late second century and later through Augustine.  It should be noted that while Augustine had most things right, he was not infallible.  He read the Platonic doctrine of the soul’s indestructibility into Scripture, and the church followed his cue.

Replies to Counter-arguments

1. Matthew 25:46 — In this passage Jesus says the wicked “will go away to eternal punishment” which suggests eternal conscious torment.

Reply:  The word translated here as “eternal” is aionias, which literally means “of the ages” (cf. Rom. 16:25).  However, even if aionias is taken to imply an everlasting state, conditional immortalism is not contradicted in this verse.  Those who go to hell are eventually annihilated and they remain destroyed forever.  This is a perfectly natural understanding of “eternal punishment” in this verse.

2. Revelation 20:10 — As commonly translated, this passage declares that the devil, the beast, and false prophet “will be tormented day and night forever and ever” (NIV).

Reply:  These are special cases and should not be taken to represent the fate of all of the damned, particularly human beings.  More importantly, the phrase often translated “forever and ever” (again involving aionias) is better translated “for ages upon ages,” as it is in some Bible translations.  This signifies a much longer torment but hardly that which is everlasting.

For an extensive discussion and defense of conditional immortalism, see Edward Fudge’s classic work The Fire that Consumes.  And for an informative scholarly dialogue between proponents of the traditional and conditional immoralist views, see Two Views of Hell, co-authored by Edward Fudge and Robert Peterson.  Also, check out this interview with Fudge about his view.  Lastly, the eminent evangelical biblical scholar John Stott defends conditional immortalism view in his Evangelical Essentials.  In fact, it was Stott’s arguments that finally persuaded me to embrace conditional immortalism.

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Thoughts on Providence and Hell

By Jim Spiegel

I hold to a high view of providence—what is sometimes called the “Augustinian” perspective.  This is essentially the view that God actively governs the entire cosmos, including human beings.  The Augustinian view jives well with the Calvinist doctrine of salvation, which I also espouse, but it is much broader than this, affirming that everything that happens in history is somehow part of the divine plan.  The Augustinian view of providence is strongly affirmed in the Westminster Confession of Faith, which declares that God ordains all things that come to pass.

This is a hard teaching, and frankly I can see why many Christians reject it.  The two principal objections to the Augustinian view appeal to human freedom and the problem of evil.  And between these two, the latter seems to me to be the stronger objection by far.  How could God ordain such terrible evils as the Holocaust or that a small child should suffer from a brain tumor?  Good questions indeed, and I certainly feel their force.

My wife, Amy, is also an Augustinian when it comes to providence.  (I distinctly recall when I first learned that this was her view.  It was early in our dating relationship, and this revelation, combined with her usual thoughtful articulation of her perspective, floored me.  Like so many other issues, she arrived at the same conclusion as I, but via a more intuitive path than my more logical-theoretical approach.  This was probably the clincher for me—when I knew I was falling for her.  Or was it when she turned me on to the band Cake?  Hmm…  Anyway, I digress.)  Recently, Amy had a long discussion with a friend about providence, and naturally, her friend posed the objection from evil, specifically challenging Amy to explain why God would allow a little child to have cancer.  Amy responded by noting that God does everything he does for greater goods, such as to glorify himself and bless others.  And sometimes this involves or even requires intense suffering.  And if God can bring greater goods through the crucifixion of Jesus, which is the worst evil in history, then why can’t he bring greater goods through lesser, though still horrific, evils, such as cancer?  Amy’s friend was not convinced, and they went on to discuss other things.

Later, when recounting their conversation, Amy noted how this same friend of hers affirms the traditional view of hell, known as the doctrine of “eternal conscious torment.”  This is the view that those who are condemned to hell suffer eternally.  Not only are the pains of hell unspeakably intense, but they last forever, according to this view.  One of the many reasons that Amy and I reject this doctrine (in addition to the fact that it is not biblical) is that such endless suffering constitutes infiniteevil for which there is no redemption or sufficiently greater good.  (Traditionalists, of course, argue that the greater good is that it demonstrates the justice of God.  But how can infinite punishment for finite sins be just?  In case you were wondering, we affirm “conditional immortalism,” the view that the damned are eventually annihilated in hell and that only those in Christ live eternally.)  Ironically, many of these traditionalists who believe God tortures the damned forever in hell are the same people who reject the high view of providence because it implicates God in our finite suffering here on Earth.  As Amy put it, some people can’t accept a God who allows cancer but they glibly confess that he allows infinite suffering in hell. 

I suppose part of the explanation for this inconsistency lies in the fact that all (or most) of us have known cancer victims and have witnessed its awful ravages.  None of us, however, have personally witnessed the horrors of hell.  So, in the end, the problem is that of an existential gap.  It’s easier to understand or appreciate what one has experienced than what one has not experienced.  And it often takes tremendous effort to close this gap.  When it comes to comparing the sufferings of the damned and suffering in this life, I suppose that gap could never truly be closed.  We just can’t imagine the pains of hell, while the suffering we witness here among friends and family is all too real and, at times, overwhelming.  But we can always do better to put these things into proper perspective, and if we do so, I believe it will help us to better formulate our views on the doctrines of providence and hell, among other issues.

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Lagidorp’s Playbook

By Jim Spiegel

There once was a football player named Lagidorp who deeply loved his team’s playbook.  He not only studied it diligently but encouraged his teammates to do the same.  Lagidorp—or “Lag,” as he came to be called—was a running back, and his many duties included blocking and short receiving routes as well as carrying the ball.  His first year with the team, Lag worked enthusiastically to fulfill his responsibilities.  But during his second year, the difficulty of some aspects of his job began to get to him.  While he loved carrying the ball, he found route running to be tiresome and blocking for the quarterback to be downright unpleasant.  “Why should I be stuck with picking up defenders that get past our offensive line?” he thought to himself.  “I’m a running back, not a blocker.”  Soon Lag found that some of his teammates had misgivings of their own about the duties laid out for them in the playbook.  And they would sometimes share their criticisms with one another.  So Lag’s love for the playbook waned, as did his respect for Coach, who devised the playbook.  Whereas earlier in his career Lag could trust Coach about the demands the playbook placed on him, now he found it very difficult to do so.

Eventually, Lag decided to ignore or de-emphasize some of the more demanding or “unreasonable” plays—those which required him to block for the quarterback.  “This is just too ‘old school,'” he would say.  “Today everyone should know that running backs shouldn’t have to block huge defensive lineman.”  Predictably, however, Lag’s approach resulted in some quarterback sacks, including one that cost his team a game and another that injured the quarterback.  Naturally, several teammates and assistant coaches chided Lag for his poor play.  While he  publicly acknowledged his mistakes, Lag privately resented their “arrogance” in correcting him.

As time went on, Lag found others outside the organization who shared his resentment toward his coaching staff, teammates, and especially Coach, for their unreasonable expectations.  Lag would often consider ways the playbook could be improved and how, if he were Coach, he would do things very differently.  By the end of his fourth year Lag had had enough, and he quit the team.  The last straw came when several teammates confronted him about his refusal to “play by the book.”  “You guys are part of the problem,” he told them.  “If you want to blame me for thinking for myself, then so be it.”

So Lagidorp joined another team—a team in a different kind of league where players wrote their own playbooks.  By some strange coincidence, though, all of the players’ playbooks ended up looking very much the same in this league—with very few responsibilities for helping teammates and where most plays emphasized “doing what comes naturally on the field.”  However, while the players claimed to enjoy this freedom, they did not improve as players but deteriorated in their skills.  Nor did they work well as teammates—if you could call them such—especially since they had no Coach.

There were also many more injuries in this alternative league.  This did not bother Lag much at first, but as the casualties mounted, he began to recognize that something was wrong.  Still he continued to play for his new team—until he had an injury of his own.  In the middle of his second season on the new team, Lag blew out his knee.  The injury called for reconstructive surgery, which meant a long rehabilitation.  During this time away from the game, Lag reflected on the previous five years.  He realized how foolish he had been in questioning his Coach and the playbook.  He also saw how unfair he had been to his teammates who, for all their flaws, were really doing the right thing in admonishing him. 

So as Lag did his rehab he resolved to return to his original team.  He contacted one of his former teammates, who was thrilled to hear this.  Eventually, Lag humbly approached Coach, apologizing for his irresponsible behavior and asking if he could try out for the team again.  “I was very foolish in the way I behaved,” he said.  “I’m ready to be a good teammate and play by the book.  In fact, at this point, I think I’d rather be a water boy than play in that other league.”  Coach forgave him, saying “We’d love to have you back on the team, assuming you really are ready to do all of the work.  It’s too bad it took an injury to get you to see the light.  But, in the end, you’ll probably be better for it.”

So Lagidorp tried out for his former team and made it back on the roster.  This time he didn’t seek the limelight, but he played a crucial role on the team and was especially pleased to block for his quarterback.  “Anything to help the team,” he would often say—and not just in public but even privately to himself.

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Hodgepodge

By Jim Spiegel

We just returned from our family vacation down South.  There and back, amidst the chaos that is our family life, Amy and I had some good conversations about art, culture, and theology.  We also talked a bit about film, and if our discussions are any indication, you’ll definitely enjoy her next installment of Snapshots.  Until then, here are some assorted thoughts of my own on random topics:

1. Counting the Cost—I recently heard that the interest on the last stimulus package is costing us (you, me, and other American taxpayers) $100,000,000 per day (assuming a 5% interest rate).  That’s right—one hundred million bucks every day.  That wouldn’t hurt so bad if it appeared the stimulus package was doing some good.  Supporters caution against pessimism at this stage, since less than 10% of the stimulus money has actually been spent.  But then why are members of Obama’s economic advisory team talking about the possibility of yet another stimulus package totaling hundreds of billions of dollars?  Five months into this mess, I am even more firmly convinced of Veronique de Rugy’s simple but insightful analysis.

2. Prehistoric?—When my son asked me the other day if a particular animal about which he was reading was “prehistoric,” it suddenly struck me what an anthropocentric word that is.  Since God knows (and is the author of) all of human history, something cannot be pre-historic in any ultimate sense but only relative to human knowledge of historical events.  So it is more accurate to say, as some folks do, that an event occurred before recorded history.  Splitting hairs?  Dwelling on the obvious?  Perhaps, but it’s still a good reminder of the eternal expanse of providence.

3. Robert McNamara, R.I.P.— The passing of Robert McNamara last week reminded me how deep an impact on world history one man can have, even when that individual is not a head of state.  McNamara served as defense secretary in the Kennedy and Johnson cabinets, and he was President of the World Bank for 13 years.  In addition to being the mastermind behind U.S. involvement in Vietnam, he is essentially the father of public policy systems analysis.  For a fascinating documentary on the former, check out The Fog of War.

4. Hail to the Kings of Leon—Lately I’ve been exploring the musical riches of Kings of Leon.  This foursome from Nashville Tennessee is comprised of three brothers and a cousin, all bearing the surname Followill—which, for my money, would be an even better name for the band, but I digress.  Their music is cleverly crafted, fully of melodies and energy, sometimes brooding, sometimes funny, but always good.  For a quick taste, check out this video of their song “King of the Rodeo“—2.5 minutes of rock n’ roll bliss (and a rather tastefully erotic video narrative—if only more video directors could be so creative and restrained).

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Michael Jackson: “Death by Show Business”?

By Jim Spiegel

The death of Michael Jackson last week is in some ways a distinctively American tragedy.  While there is nothing new under the sun about the soul-crushing effects of fame and fortune, the dynamics involved in the demise of the greatest pop icon of his generation are eerily familiar.  Anyone acquainted with the details of the decline and fall of mj-early1Elvis Presley—who, oddly enough, was posthumous father-in-law to Jacko—knows that both men followed the same basic pattern of descent.  Like Presley, Jackson was surrounded by a posse of enablers—people who catered to his whims, including providing him with drugs, while ignoring his declining health, just so they could maintain his approval and, of course, financially benefit.  Sadly, the parallels to the Elvis tragedy are many.

American mega-stardom is a soul-eating monster, and it basically works as follows.  The star rises to renown because of some talent, such as singing, acting, or athletic ability.  As his fame and wealth grow, so do media attention and the onslaught of paparazzi which destroy any privacy the star once had.  Along with this there usually come criticisms, rumors, and accusations of various kinds which make the star defensive or even paranoid about his personal safety and perhaps the safety of his family.  This prompts the star to form an inner circle of advisors to guard his interests, thus creating the celebrity “ghetto effect”—completely insulating him from the “real world.”  At this point he lives in an artificial private world, where all those  around do his bidding.  At the same time, the star’s accountability for personal behavior is diminished, perhaps even lost, as the inner circle is paid exorbitant amounts of money by the star.  Fearing dismissal and a loss of their own fortune, the inner circle becomes a team of “yes” men.  What was intended as a protective belt of security for the star is now a lethal nest of parasites, whose success in feeding off their host must eventually destroy him.

mj-mid1This pattern is not reserved for mega-stars, by the way, but seems to apply, to some degree, to anyone who finds himself in a position of power and prestige.  Remember that money fuels this machine, so the more money, the more ugly the potential results.  The likes of Howard Hughes, Elvis Presley, and, now, Michael Jackson just happen to be the more glaring cases, because of the circumstances of their deaths—tragic neglect despite their many “caretakers.”  But as tragic as these stories are, who knows how the moral neglect in these and similar cases has resulted in deaths of an even more tragic nature—the deaths of the souls of the rich and famous.

To what shall we compare celebrity in the American entertainment culture?  Celebrity is like a tidal wave that rises in part by its own force but gains most of its strength and momentum by its surroundings.  All of these forces which make its crest so impressive also guarantee its disastrous crash.

A while back Amy and I discussed some of the vocations that we envisioned our kids heading into when they become adults.  As we shared our thoughts, we found that we had many conflicting intuitions and expectations.  Then one of us posed the question, “What profession would you least like to see your son or daughter go into?”  Here we easily agreed:  Any line of work that encourages self-exaltation and, when successfully done, brings enormous wealth.  In mj-late-on-stand1short, we just don’t want our kids to have fame and fortune.  Some rare celebrities do appear to make it through this “eye of the needle” with their faith and moral compass intact (Bono seems, thus far, to be an example—though at a dear price, I’m sure he would admit).  But we would prefer that our kids—or anyone we love, for that matter—not be subjected to the moral-spiritual poisons of celebrity.

As Morrissey once sang, “Fame, fame, fatal fame—it can play hideous tricks on the brain.”  Indeed, so does extreme wealth.  As we consider the tragic case of Michael Jackson, it would be good for all of us to remember that, for all its macabre circus-like twists and turns, his story is not unique in this crucial sense:  He succumbed to the temptations and mind-warping influences of his mega-stardom.  And I suspect that the overwhelming majority of the rest of us would do so as well.

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The Making of Atheists

By Jim Spiegel

My current book project is on the subject of atheism.  Though there have been plenty of books on this topic the last few years, both by atheists (the “new atheists” as they’ve come to be called) and their critics, nearly all of these books address the evidence for or against theism.  Atheist writers complain that because of the existence of evil and the immorality of believers faith in God is unreasonable.  And they argue that the explanatory power of science makes faith unnecessary.  Defenders of theism have given rejoinders to these arguments and offered evidences for God either overlooked or underappreciated by the new atheists.  Some Christian apologists have devoted entire books to critiquing particular works by the new atheists (e.g. The McGraths’ The Dawkins Delusion and Zacharias’ The End of Reason).

But lost in the whirlwind of this debate is the deeper question as to whether atheism is actually the product of rational inquiry.  Richard Dawkins and Daniel Dennett have suggested that theists suffer from a sort of delusion.  Could this be a case of “If you spot it, you got it”?  If anyone is delusional, perhaps it is atheists.  After all, looking at the matter from a statistical standpoint, is it more likely that over 90% of human beings (religious believers) are deluded or that only a small minority (atheists) are so deceived?  To take the former view, along with Dawkins, Dennett, and others, is a serious psychological indictment of the human race.  (And, given this thesis, one wonders why these authors would expect their readers to have a rational response to their books!)  On the other hand, if atheists are the duped ones, what explains this?  Is it simply a misconstrual of the evidence for God?  If so, what could account for that?  Is the problem somehow psychological, sociological, or even moral in nature?

These are some of the questions I am raising (and attempting to answer) in my book, which will be published by Moody Press in 2010.  I would welcome your own thoughts on the matter…whether or not they turn out to be delusional.

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Some Benefits of Life Without Television

By Jim Spiegel

For our entire married life (11 years), Amy and I have not had television (in the sense that we don’t receive channels, though we do watch DVDs and videos).  Occasionally we are asked about our reasons for making this choice, so I thought it would be a good idea to actually compile a list of some of the benefits of TV abstinence.  So here is a list—by no means exhaustive—of some of the major benefits of life without TV.

1. Avoidance of commercials and the fueling of the consumer mentality — It’s all about the sponsors, as we all know.  And to watch a TV show is to be bombarded with constant pitches for products one neither needs nor, properly, desires.  Even the most circumspect person cannot help but be impacted by this.

2. Better stewardship of time — Amy and I spend much less time watching shows because we only view the DVDs and videos we plan ahead of time to view.  We don’t end up watching shows that we didn’t want to watch (which, strange as it sounds, is a common phenomenon among viewers).  Without TV, relative to my life before, I virtually have a 27-hour day, so I can get more accomplished with family time, reading, and creative projects.

3. Protection of children — Our kids are not exposed to inappropriate images, language, and lifestyle choices which even find their way into “innocent” shows (e.g. foul language, disrespectful attitudes, undermining of authority, the normalization of premarital sex and homosexuality, etc.).  Of course, in our culture it is impossible to perfectly shield one’s kids from some of these influences, but without TV there is a dramatic reduction in this exposure.

4. Avoidance of narcissism, bad ethics, and poor reasoning — Whether it is sitcoms, reality TV shows, or even news programs, the me-first mentality is ubiquitous in television land.  And from what I’ve seen of such shows as Friends and Survivor, the moral-decision making and logical thinking skills are rather suspect.  Let’s just say that, as a Philosophy professor, I always know where to find vivid illustrations of moral vices and logical fallacies.  So thank you for that much, Mr. Television.

5. Enhancement of aesthetic sense — Most television shows are just not very good from an aesthetic standpoint.  A rare exception is The Simpsons, at least in previous seasons which I sometimes watch it via Netflix—so I can’t speak to how strong the show is currently.  But generally speaking, constant exposure to television injures one’s aesthetic sensibility.  Occasionally we hear someone recommend a show to us as “one of the best on television” (e.g. Lost, 24, Arrested Development, etc.).  Invariably, when we take time to check them out, we are disappointed.  To say a show is one of TV’s best is, well, damning with faint praise.

So we encourage you to take the plunge and take the sage advice of such folks as Neil Postman and Jerry Mander.  Or, if you won’t listen to them, then take the word of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

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What’s Wrong with Jon and Kate

By Jim Spiegel

For several years I’ve been strong critic of the television show Jon and Kate Plus Eight.  This popular program follows the day-to-day challenges of Jon and Kate Gosselin as they raise their eight children, six of which were the product of the same pregnancy.  I objected to the premise because of what I suspected it would ultimately cause, if the show turned out to be “successful” (i.e. a big money-maker), namely the celebritizing and sensationalizing of the Gosselin family and all of the devastating pressures and temptations this would inevitably bring.  Well, now having just begun its fifth season, those pop culture chickens are coming home to roost, as the season premier (viewed by 9.8 million people) has revealed the depths of John and Kate’s marital problems.  As the Marxists used to say about capitalism, from the start the whole Jon and Kate television project contained within itself the seeds of its own destruction. 

jon_kate_eightLest we pity them too much, we must remember that this was a choice they made.  No one forced them to put their lives on display before millions.  For the Gosselins, the price was right.  Or so they thought.  And now, well, they’re paying the price for volunteering themselves and their children for the American celebrity machine—which is more like a soul-eating monster.  It’s just a shame that they have also served up their children as a meal.

This program is, as they say, wrong at so many levels.  It promotes many lies and vices, and here are just a few.

J&K+8 perpetuates lies about fame and wealth.  One of the enticing aspects of the show is its insinuation that the resources the program provides the Gosselins could help them in raising so many children.  “Look how they are able to take all of those trips and have so many wonderful experiences that they otherwise couldn’t have!” viewers remark.  Such an attitude naively overlooks the myriad problems caused by celebrity.  Here someone might retort, “Ah, but don’t the Gosselins’ problems actually remind us of the fact that fame and wealth don’t bring happiness?”  To which I reply, “At what price?  The mental health and moral well-being of their children?”  Furthermore, it is doubtful that viewers will see the implosion of their marriage as anything but mistakes made by the Gosselins independently of their fame and wealth.  Alas, the real lessons here are lost on most viewers, and the lies are only reinforced.

J&K+8 invites gossip.  When I hear people recount the salacious details of the Gosselins’ troubled marriage, I can’t help but conclude that something is terribly awry.  Would we talk openly about the marital problems of church friends or neighbors?  And in front of our kids?  Good grief, no!  Yet because J&K+8 plops it all right in our laps, we are invited to chat about it all in frank terms.  And if we can do so regarding the Gosselins, then why not about anyone else?  J&K+8—like so many reality-TV shows—makes the gossip mentality contagious.

J&K+8 is essentially child abuse.  Yes, those are strong words, but hear me out.  All of the research indicates that severe marital problems and divorce are harmful to children.  I need not count the ways here.  To create a situation in which a marriage is aggravated by the trappings of celebrity (e.g., constant intrusions and loss of privacy, temptations of self-importance, increased time away from one’s kids, etc.), thus compounding the already difficult challenges of raising so many children, is cruel and abusive.  And to justify this in the name of entertainment and advertising dollars (despite the euphemisms one might use to rationalize it) only makes the whole racket more pernicious.  The Gosselin kids are being harmed by all of this, as nearly ten million Americans glibly look on, too preoccupied by their own amusement to recognize the moral and psychological carnage they are witnessing.

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E.T., Oz, and the Gospel

By Jim Spiegel

Recently I watched the film E.T. with our kids.  It was the first time I’d seen the film in more than 25 years, and needless to say, my viewing experience was vastly different from that of my college days in the mid-80s.  Two and a half decades later, I was able to see things in the film that I didn’t notice before.  For one thing, I was struck by how the E.T. story is essentially a reworking of the Wizard of Oz narrative.  The Dorothy character is, of course, the extraterrestrial who has landed in a different world and needs to find his way home.  Three strangers befriend him, too—only here they are human:  Elliott and his two siblings.  And they forge strong emotional bonds, as together they fight inimical forces.  As the story unfolded, I expected someone to say, “E.T., you’re not in Andromeda anymore.”  The wicked witch is now the scientific arm of the federal government (rather ironic, given director Steven Spielberg’s politically leftist trust in the federal government, but I digress), and the magical hope of Oz is replaced by technology—E.T.’s clever homespun gadgetry which enables him to send an S.O.S. to his pals a few million light years away.  “E.T. phone home” replaces the Oz mantra “there’s no place like home.”

200px-e_t_the_extra_terrestrial_ver3The film’s sentimental farewell also parallels that of Dorothy bidding adieu to her three friends, but with a crucial difference.  The latter occurs after a technological failure—the balloon launch mishap which carries away the bumbling wizard to who knows where—while E.T.’s return home is the result technological success.  And, interestingly, as E.T.’s spaceship zooms away from Earth, it leaves a rainbow in the sky, which of course hearkens to the “somewhere over the rainbow” theme of The Wizard of Oz.  Coincidence?  Surely not, given Spielberg’s astute sense of narrative and film history.

My older two boys, Bailey and Sam, were riveted as they watched, just as they are riveted by The Wizard of Oz.  What makes these stories so compelling?  Some folks have suggested that their power lies in the “gospel arc,” as they turn abject failure and catastrophe into triumph and joy.  As my pastor likes to point out, E.T. has especially strong parallels to the gospel story:  From the heavens comes a stranger with miraculous powers.  He is befriended by a select few who really love him, while he is misunderstood by the many whose interest in him is anything but personal.  He forms a special, life-changing bond with some of his new friends, but his visit is cut short as he unexpectedly dies, leaving the faithful heartbroken and perplexed.  Then, to everyone’s surprise, he rises from the dead!  Shortly after this, the stranger ascends—back to the heavens from whence he came.  But before he goes, he assures his faithful that he will be with them—even in their own hearts.

Now is this parallel a coincidence?  Did Spielberg intend to use the Christian gospel narrative as the blueprint for the E.T. plot?  That is a much more provocative question, and although the similarities are at least as significant as those between E.T. and The Wizard of Oz, I am not inclined to believe that Spielberg consciously intended this.  Neither, however, do I think the parallels are mere coincidence.  It seems to me that the explanation lies in the fact that the gospel really is, as they say, the greatest story ever told and that it’s profound, eucatastrophic theme of redemption is as compelling as it gets.  So those who possess both a strong sense of narrative and redemption will almost necessarily find themselves returning to the gospel arc, even in their own creative works—even artists and storytellers, such as Spielberg, who explicitly reject the original Gospel.  They can’t help themselves.  It’s a narrative too good to ignore.  Which just goes to show— there’s no story like the Gospel.

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Together Through Life

By Jim Spiegel

A few months ago Bob Dylan surprised everyone—including his record company—with the announcement that he had recorded a new album, and last month Together Through Life was released, to the jubilance of Dylan cronies like me everywhere.  At nearly 68 years of age, the great rock bard is nearing the end of his extraordinary career.  So each new album is a yet more precious gift.  What is most remarkable is that late-period Dylan is arguably his very best.  The most recent trio of albums—including Love and Theft, Modern Times, and Together Through Life—form what I have begun calling Dylan’s Americana Trilogy, all having been produced by Jack Frost (Dylan’s pseudonym as record producer) and showcasing a rootsy, relaxed kind of energy to match consistently strong compositions.  However many more albums he records, the first decade of the 21st century will surely go down as a peak Dylan period.

200px-together_through_lifeDylan’s voice is now a gravelly rasp but still quite capable of delivering powerful emotions, startling metaphors, and home truths.  Dylan smartly surrounds his vocals with equally raw instrumentation, including David Hidalgo’s accordion which graces most of the songs on the album.  What no one seems to have noticed is the prominence of guitar work on this album, thanks especially to Mike Campbell (of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers fame).  No other Dylan album (among the 30+ he has recorded) features so many guitar solos.  In fact, there are multiple solos on most of the songs—gritty but melodic stuff that richly accents the lyrics.

Here’s a quick survey of the tracks, most of which Dylan co-wrote with Grateful Dead wordsmith, Robert Hunter:

“Beyond Here Lies Nothin'” – This minor-key tex-mex rocker is the ideal opener for this song cycle, setting the mood for the album which consistently makes the listener feel like he’s sitting in a smoke-filled border town café.  Think Carlos Santana meets Los Lobos, with a generous helping of 1950s Sun Records spontaneity:  “I’m movin’ after midnight down boulevard of broken cars; don’t know what I’d do with out it—without this love that we call ours.  Beyond here lies nothin’—nothin’ but the moon and stars.”

“Life is Hard” – This song was the seed crystal of the entire project, as Dylan and his band went into the studio to record to this tune for the upcoming film My Own Love Song and it ballooned into an album project.  This slow swinging romantic ballad is deceptively complex musically—one of Dylan’s most sophisticated ever.  An instant classic, really, that won’t be immediately recognized as such because Dylan’s voice isn’t strong or nimble enough to do it justice.  But in the hands of a capable jazz singer, the genius of this song would become apparent.  If only Nina Simone were still alive…

“My Wife’s Home Town” – This stark brooding tune works as an anthem for every husband who’s been tortured by his wife’s disapproval:  “She can make you steal, make you rob, give you the hives, make you lose your job.  She can make things bad; she can make things worse.  She’s got stuff more potent than a gypsy curse.”  In spite of this, he confesses, “my love for her is all I know.”  In many ways, this song’s black humor typifies the entire album.

“If You Ever Go to Houston” – An upbeat nostalgic piece featuring a tasty interplay of classical guitar, organ, accordion, and pedal-steel guitar.  “If you ever go to Houston, you better walk right.  Keep your hands in your pockets and hang your gun belt tight.  You’ll be asking for trouble, if you look for a fight.”  But, as with most of these songs, the lyric redounds to his own emotions:  “Put my tears in a bottle, screw the top on tight; if you ever go to Houston, you better walk right.”

“Forgetful Heart” – Another minor-key meditation, at turns sad and angry, featuring a dark swirl of quiet guitar distortion.  In the face of lost love, Dylan sings “the door has closed forevermore, if indeed there ever was a door”—one of those lines with potentially endless applications to life situations.  Is it regret?  Exasperation?  A sense of futility in the hands of cruel fate?  Perhaps all of the above.

“Jolene” – In the refrain to this rollicking bluesy number the singer declares to his lover, “I am the king and you are the queen.”  But the irony is that despite his pronouncements, it is he who is ruled by his lover.  Dueling guitar solos punctuate the song and drive home the theme.

“This Dream of You” – A mournful quasi-waltz draped with accordion, violin, and a plaintive refrain:  “All I have and all I know is this dream of you which keeps me living on.”  This is another song which, like “Life is Hard,” displays a surprising musical elegance.  While one of the greatest writers of blues music, Dylan’s reach as a composer extends into diverse genres, even parlor jazz and show tunes, as each album in the Americana Trilogy demonstrates.

“Shake Shake Mama” – A rocking blues tune with more gut-punching dueling guitars and humorous social commentary:  “Some of you women really know your stuff; but your clothes are all torn and your language is a little too rough.”  But, at bottom, it’s a blues song, as Dylan declares, “I’m fatherless, motherless, and almost friendless too.”

“I Feel a Change Comin’ On” – This is a bouncy tune with an optimistic musical vibe offset by a melancholic lyric.  “Life is for love, and they say that love is blind.  If you want to live easy, baby, pack your clothes with mine.”  Again, however, the happiness is derailed:  “Well, now what’s the use in dreaming.  You’ve got better things to do.  Dreams never did work for me anyway even when they did come true.”

“Its all Good” – If Together Through Life is essentially a musical dark comedy, then its signature song is this closer.  Some reviewers have actually called it upbeat and positive.  Chalk one up for superficial assessment.  This is a sardonic jest at the shallow optimism behind the idiom of the song title.  But this seems lost on some listeners, in spite of lines like these:  “People in the country, people on the land, some of them so sick they can hardly stand.  Everybody would move away, if they could.  It’s hard to believe, but its all good.”  And this:  “The widows cry.  The orphans bleed.  Everywhere you look, there’s more misery.  Come along with me.  I wish you would.  You know what I’m saying—it’s all good.”  Right.  The truth is things are very far from all good.  In fact, nothing in this world is all good, as Dylan has been reminding us for almost fifty years.  This world is a tragic place, and we’ll eventually lose our sanity if we don’t follow the implicit advice of the album’s title.